


The Mourning After

by Enjolras_The_Survivor



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Work In Progress, enjolras survived, irregular updates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjolras_The_Survivor/pseuds/Enjolras_The_Survivor
Summary: After the barricades fall, Enjolras is imprisoned.





	The Mourning After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phantom_Actress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom_Actress/gifts).



> THIS IS CANON-DIVERGENT, but not AU.

"NO, GRANTAIRE!" Enjolras yelled, having seen that all the musket barrels were pointing at him. BOOM! A gunshot sounded and R's lifeless body crumpled to the floor, a crimson flower of blood seeping out, staining his already dirty vest. Enjolras would rather die for a cause he believed in than submit to prison but despite his pleas to join his friend in Heaven (or Hell, which was more likely - it was Grantaire, a skeptic alcoholic, after all), they forced him to a standing position and roughly shackled him. When they arrived at the gaol, Enjolras was not allowed any time to grieve. He was put straight to work, hauling in ships and breaking apart rocks. It was tough toil and soon his hands were rubbed raw and blistered because he had grown up in relative comfort, wanting for little except political justice. He knew nothing of Marius' survival, believing him to be dead. The work he was forced to do, he threw himself into, in the hope of hiding his feelings.

"Now bring me Prisoner 35701! Your time is up and your parole's begun!" yelled a nameless guard, spitting into the nearest captives' faces. 10 long years had passed, and Enjolras' once-handsome face had become haggard and drawn, with a beard that he hated. His body had changed too, there were muscles bulging from his undersized body and callouses on his hands. Round his neck, you could clearly see the marks of the collar. It wasn't just his appearance. His nature changed, he wanted revenge on his jailers. Technically, he was free, but the Law would banish him to some out-of-the-way place - in his case it was Montferrat, where Marius had once said his parents had lived. The realisation brought back waves of painful memories and Marius falling from the barricades.

As he trudged along the unfamiliar grey dust roads of Brignoles, he began to think about eating and maybe sleeping. He knocked on every door, asked for sanctuary at every church he came across but nobody cared for a convict. Nobody cares. Nobody will care. This became his mantra, cycling round in his head. He took to sleeping in forests, drinking and washing in streams. Approaching two weeks of freedom, stumbling through Manosque, an empty blackness took his legs from underneath him.

**Author's Note:**

> Because of Phantom_Actress, I am going to add to this. WARNING: it probably won't be in chapter format.


End file.
